Chapter Three: Beautiful Disaster

The day seemed to come and go without warning, and the sun had long hid itself behind the graying clouds in the Nevada sky. And as they got out of their cars, quite exhausted from a full day; collecting and observing evidence, interviewing possible suspects, while ruling out some of them in order to narrow their search down to an art, this rainy day September day had not gone to waste.

"It's really pouring now" Sara commented, as Gil walked into the break room, and went straight over the full coffeepot, before opening the cupboard above and grabbed himself a nice mug.

Gil arched his brow and chuckled softly, as he gazed over at her, while her brown eyes stared at the rain drizzling down upon the building's windows. His eyes went from the curvy patterns as the rain fell briskly out of view, back on to her as he nodded. "We know one thing it's good for though--" He added, looking from the corner of his eye, and gripped his hand tightly around the handle of the pot, while holding the cup with his other hand.

She took her gaze off of the window and smirked, before she had even established her attention upon him. Her brow arched in interest as her smirk turned into a soft smile, as she now saw one steaming mug of coffee in a navy blue mug sitting directly on top of the white countertop, while he retrieved another mug from the cupboard.

Her gaze seemed to hold him fixated as he carefully pulled out an Indian red, colored mug; in fact such a beautiful color for such a gloomy and well started day. Only to say it really hadn't started that well, and now well—it was raining, and it had been a long day—a very long day.

So even after uncomprehendingly gazing in her direction, his eyes swimming deep in her chocolate brown eyes, he could see her focus drowning out the rain that drummed rhythmically against the window, as they stared at him, then broke to look at her empty hands that sat in her lap.

He used that brief moment to pour the other cup of coffee, then walked over and handed it to her as she broke away from her sudden gaze upon the wall. She looked up at him with a sudden smile and a thank you, as she took the cup graciously into hand.

"I needed this" She gestured to the cup, then took a sip, and the room became silent again; beside the pitter-patter sound of the rain, and the few people that were still here in the lab, relaying important information to one another.

"Knew you would" He smirked, then went back over the counter and took a sip of his own coffee, casting glances here and there towards her tired frame, and knew very well behind the comfort of the couch; legs drawn in towards her body, hands wrapped around the steaming cup, her eyes again gazing out the rain casted window, definitely told him something was on her mind.

----

Take me to where you are,
Where the sun and the moon collide
And keep your face in memories,
As the rain pours down my face.

And the cold wind blows,
In an icy stare, as your love
Comes rushing back.
While sorrow draws more
Near to me, in time
I can't go back.

Without notice to the rain that was now falling long and hard, Catherine stood in a deep stare. Her hand that griped the wood handle of the umbrella was cold, and her legs were unmovable to the wet green grass that she now stood on.

The sky was a dark blue, as thunder rumbled along the atmosphere and a few bursts of lightning flashed after. And just at that moment a bitter wind breezed through her hair as she gazed at the grave place that she had placed herself in an hour ago.

So she stepped up to his grave, as she held a rose in her hand, and took in a deep breath as she scanned the words upon his grave;

Eddie Willows
We Only Part, To Meet Again

---

"We got a receipt from a store someone went to, and I don't think it was him that went shopping" Greg pointed into the other room with the tweezers, in the place where Mr. Malone had been found.

"What would make you think that?" Warrick inquired more ingeniously than he should have been, as he examined the contents on the table. Which held yesterday's newspaper, a blue cup; still had coffee it, a white bib that had been folded over, which read, 'my little boy' and had been cast to the side of the table.

The bib itself seemed to be large enough for a toddler to fit into.

A toddler.

"Behold the smell of perfume." Greg answered with a small smirk, as he lifted the receipt that had been found slightly wedged between the bag and a package of tuna.

"How do you know it wasn't someone who put the food in the bag?" Nick suggested as he took hold of the paper, scanning the items upon it.

Greg shook his head in return, with a shrug as his eyes momentarily lit up. "It's possible, but it we're not sure we could ask Jessie" He returned his gaze to the paper, with an exceedingly intelligent look on his face.

----

"Oh but the good day has already begun" Grissom quoted, after Brass had filled them in on the rest of the information, and they had just walked into the room where the mother laid on the queen sized bed. While the father laid on the floor, on his stomach; his head facing in the direction of the wall.

Sara gazed up at Gil with much understanding—always contemplating how he could have something for everything—as his words, and unusual ways made the case complete. She arched her brow, as she got that look on her face that asked, who said it this time?

He was already pulling on some white latex gloves, and crouched down beside his own kit that was already opened. And he understood her expression immediately, as he answered simply. "My brother"

She gazed up at him as soon as she had registered his words, and came up short of a blank, surprised expression. "I didn't know you had a brother" She informed him, as she held onto the black camera that was draped around her neck, then took a picture of the mother, while relaying the information in her own way that Brass had given them just moments ago.

Bridgett Fischer, thirty-six years old. Shoulder length brown hair, and dazzling green eyes; that were now lifeless, as they stared into a darkened abyss. While the expression on her face still presented a sense of fear and anxiety from the now present situation.

He nodded "A couple years older" He added, breaking into her thoughts. She furrowed her brows, as she got ready to take another picture, when she noticed that Bridgett was still grasping a piece of jewelry in her right hand as it sat tucked, almost hidden from view.

His words hovered within her, as she moved to the other side of the bed, and took a picture. The chain of the necklace was still in view, as well as half of whatever was connected to it. She couldn't exactly tell.

"There's some kind of symbol, or picture on this necklace" Sara pointed out, as she waited for him to stand up and to walk over; as he had been drawing in some observations on the father's position—documenting pictures of evidence useful in the case—before he broke from that and observed the necklace that was still in hand.

----

Catherine broke completely from her thoughts and saw her nine-year old daughter, standing beside her. "Are you mad at me because I could save him?" Lindsey inquired abruptly as she held back her own sobs in her words, and waited for some indication, some comfort that she could place in her broken heart.

She gave a choking sob, swallowing hard to keep her composure, as she saw her daughter's lip waver. Her heart broke to hear her ask, and at the same time it ached to hold her near her. "No, baby" She shook her head, and placed her hand upon her daughter's cheek, as she wiped away the tear that ran down it. "I'm so proud of you for being brave" Her voice wavered, and her own tears threatened to fall. "There was nothing you could have done that would have saved him" Catherine gave her daughter a small reassuring smile, as she finally let a tear silently fall down her cheek. Lindsey stood there another moment before giving way to small-saddened smiling sob, then wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.

"Will you tell him I miss him?" She whispered after finally calming, as she broke her embrace and met her mother's gaze.

Catherine was amazed at how much better she felt, and the comfort that wrapped around her, as well as her daughter's. Even the consolation of one another absorbed the astounding feel of her words, Please tell him I miss him.

Even though she had never mentioned to anyone of her intentions of going to his grave, her daughter could feel it within her, with a silent notion. Lindsey had slipped a small rose into the palm of her hand, and Catherine knew her last goodbye to him would be hard, but they had to move on.

----

That was Archie" Nick confirmed as he snapped his phone closed, and held on to it tightly. "The prints found on our grocery bag had several prints on it but those prints were from four different people--" He pocketed the phone back in his pocket. "Jenna Malone, Jessica Gannett, Monica Brunei, and Jack Malone"

Warrick nodded. "So according to his prints on the receipt, we could assume that he was in the kitchen at the time that his wife got home" He stated, as he started to sift through the contents that they had found in the bag.

Tuna…banana's… Doughnuts…etc, etc…

"By the way he was dressed, I'm assuming he was on his way to work" Greg chimed in, as he swabbed the sink to determine if there was any trace of blood.

"Okay so while he was getting ready for work this morning, his pregnant wife was making a quick run to the store?" Nick inquired, looking over the receipt. "For tuna, bananas, doughnuts and some other things that I won't even mention."

"Good point" Greg answered, then turned back towards the sink, put a drop on the swab, of which did not turn any color. So either this person was either really really good, or something else.

"Yeah well that's not the only thing that doesn't make sense" Warrick added, sensing Nick's confusion, and only catching half of Greg's attention at that same moment. "I found this bib on the table" He held up a bag that now held the toddler-sized bib that he had found earlier today.

"Looks like it could fit— a toddler" Nick stated as he observed the bib.

Warrick exhaled and took the bag back into hand, staring uneasily at one piece of the puzzle that did not fit. At least not yet. "That's what I said"

Nick arched a brow "There was no sign anywhere in this house that a toddler lives here" He stated gingerly, observing the food. His eyes viewed the contents of the bag, and noticed something sticking barely visible on the bottom of the bananas.

"Possibly" Warrick trailed, as his eyes watched Nick reach out, and attentively watched as his hands lifted the bananas up, which in turn revealed a gray card. He exchanged looks with Nick and asked, "What'd you find"

----

"It's a locket" Sara realized, a good-sized gold locket, with a picture in front. Carefully she reached out, and pried it out of her hand.

The picture in front was of a young girl, with brown shoulder length hair. She looked about five or six, and looked quite happy as she stood by an old brick home.

And at first glance you would wonder if it was her, or if it could possibly be some kind of memoir for a loved one, being kept close to their heart.

Gil watched as Sara held it up, observing its features as it spun around in mid-air. The gold shining brightly as it reflected the surrounding around the room, making them seem cheery and bright, as if nothing had ever happened here.

"Think it was hers?" Gil asked her as he stood examining the hand that the locket had been held in. He asked through a side glance as she then put the locket back into a big and sealed it, before marking it as part of evidence and handed it over to her.

She pursed her lips in interest, as she put the cap back on the pen. "Could be" She called over her shoulder as she turned around and laid the evidence on top of her kit; then stopped and asked, "How well do you think the sister downstairs knows her own?" She asked looking slightly back over her shoulder, as she turned around and looked briefly at the bag.

Gil arched a brow. As he leaned closer to find that in the palm of Bridgett Fischer's hand, were nail indentations. He observed them, then Bridgett's, realizing that Bridgett didn't have any. Then he looked up. "Well she lived with them…" Sara arched her brow, and nodded. "So she's got to know something"

----

But letting go had never been a very easy thing. Never got easier either.

Because when she thought she had said goodbye to an old friend, whose case, although reopened fifteen years later in hopes of getting the chance once more of catching the real killer, only ended in an old epic battle of familiar knowledge, kept secret; now spilled.

The man who had helped Catherine get on her feet, had been swiped off of his own. And she had meant every word when had told him; she would see this through, until the very end. Of course she had stuck to her gun, and he was now serving his proper time in jail.

She took in a deep breath, stepping out of her car, into the solitary grounds of the cemetery. The rose tucked safely in the confines of her black coat. A pensive, tired look upon her face, as the warmth of the car lingered within her, and the stirring wind flowed in a low chill.

The clouds now a dark gray in the sky that swirled around in the growing darkness were solely a conscious separation between what was, and where she was now. Which in no doubt, the circumstances had changed—being the very long road that it had been—and completed where this road ended, and today started where the new one began.

Familiar steps sheltered behind, as her shoes clicked along the sidewalk. The frequent clicks harmonized in her ears, as the frigid air circled around her, through growing winds as she walked around the grounds.

----

"Hi" Warrick greeted as a lady in her mid thirties answered the door, wearing a short sleeved pink shirt, and dark blue jeans, while she cradled a little boy, probably about five months in one hand. A young girl of the age of three hung tightly on to her mother's right leg.

"Yes, hello. Can I help you?" The lady answered kindly, then leaned down towards the little girl and patted her back, whispering something quietly into her ear. The little girl, whose face was now hidden in the material of her mother's pants, let go of her leg immediately, and raced off into the other room.

"Yeah, I'm Warrick Brown, and this is Nick Stokes" He introduced, as each showed her their badges, then pocketed them back up. "We're from the Las Vegas Crime lab" The lady shook her head, registering the feeling that was creeping along her veins, as she rocked the barely fussing baby in her arms. "Are you Brinna Peterman?" She talked quietly to the baby, soothing him gently as she nodded to them in response.

Nick and Warrick exchanged looks, then Nick nodded, and turned back towards her before she could ask what had brought them here, he interjected "Mrs. Peterman--" Her head immediately shot up upon hearing her name, and her blue eyes met there's. Nick tilted his head at her reaction. "You left a message on the Malone's answering machine"

Yeah a couple of days ago for a play date for today--" She answered. Her eyes held relief as she noted her son's eyes closing in tiredness, as his small body rocked back and forth, relaxing little by little as time passed on. "Why?" She asked warily.

Warrick exhaled and took in a deep breath. "This morning we found Jack Malone dead, and Jenna Malone nowhere in sight. When's the last time you saw either of them?"

"I saw Jenna last around eight forty five this morning when she dropped off Rhett" She told them honestly, stepping closer, and arching her brow in confusion. "Please I have their son here, and's he's already been through enough." Brinna added quietly, as her eyes hastened to the other room, where her daughter and Rhett sat playing with blocks, talking in their own language, back and forth.

"Wait--Rhett is their son?" Warrick chimed in, exchanging another look with Nick, who softly nodded in accord with his words, and stepped back, keeping one eye on the conversation, while taking in the surroundings of the house, or anything that caught his eye.

"No" She looked back at them with a discerning look, as she shook her head. "Not exactly"